


The Hunger Games

by thedailygrind



Category: The Hunger Games (Movies), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Angst, Forced Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:22:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29785032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedailygrind/pseuds/thedailygrind
Summary: “I’m here to protect someone,” Jungkook says, he glances at his hands in his lap, his eyelashes fluttering softly, uncharacteristically shy. “You see, I fell in love.”There’s a collective gasp from the gallery, and Jungkook waits, teasing out the silence, until the crowd is restless for his answer.“He’s here,” Jungkook says quietly, “the one I love, and I’m going to make sure he lives.”
Relationships: Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin
Kudos: 36





	The Hunger Games

_Now_

There’s something no one tells you about the games.

Nothing is more bitter than hope which the Capitol, takes and dangles like a prize. 

Jimin quickly learns there are worst things than death.

They make it to the end -- two kids from District 12. The glass windows stretch from floor to ceiling and Jimin can see the crowds reveling on the street outside, the image of his and Jungkook’s faces painted across the skyline.

Jimin looks away, his gut clenching. There’s nothing worth celebrating tonight, not when their survival was tainted by the blood of twenty others, all of whom had been murdered for mindless _entertainment._

“Hyung?”

Jungkook’s standing behind him in a dark evening robe that parts slightly to reveal his muscled chest. Lower, Jimin can see the beginnings of an ugly gash, the flesh pink and raised; Jungkook’s war wounds, the only evidence left now of the horrors they’ve lived through.

That, and Jimin’s never-ending nightmares.

“Sorry,” Jungkook says, quietly, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me,” Jimin says, “I was just thinking.”

“Can I ask what about?” 

Jungkook steps toward the window, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights. Like this,  he looks just like an angel, broad backed and tall and otherworldly.

Jimin's mouth goes dry. 

“It's nothing important.”

Jungkook tilts his head to look at Jimin, his dark eyes unreadable.

“What would it take for you to trust me?”

“I trust you,” Jimin says. 

He means it. Or as much as anyone can trust anyone else these days. 

Jimin knows the Capitol is full of treachery, and it isn’t safe even now, although they’ve made it to the end of the Games.  Jungkook though, is from District 12, and that sense of familiarity alone makes him safer than anyone else Jimin knows.

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” Jungkook says, the muscle in his jaw jumping. He’s still staring out into the city, but his gaze is hard. “You shouldn’t fucking trust anyone.”

“Jungkook,” Jimin says, laying his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, but Jungkook flinches away like the touch burns him.

They stand there, Jimin’s hands clenched by his side, Jungkook braced against the glass, his chest heaving.

“It isn’t a media ploy for me,” Jungkook says quietly, “I just hope you know that.”

“What isn’t?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, and by the time Jimin turns around, he’s already gone.

_Then_

“And why are you here, Jeon Jungkook?” Caesar Flickerman beams. He casts his eyes at the audience, urging them to cheer. 

The crowd is going wild, Jungkook is dressed in a simple black suit. It’s cut low on his chest, revealing his muscular arms, there’s a shimmer of gold dust on his tan skin, and beneath the lights he looks like a Greek God, fierce and ready to conquer.

“I’m here to protect someone,” Jungkook says, he glances at his hands in his lap, his eyelashes fluttering softly, uncharacteristically shy. “You see, I fell in love.”

There’s a collective gasp from the gallery, and Jungkook waits, teasing out the silence, until the crowd is restless for his answer. 

“He’s here,” Jungkook says quietly, “the one I love, and I’m going to make sure he lives.”

His doe eyes shine when they move the camera in for a close up. The duality is heart-stopping. Jeon Jungkook, the golden boy from District 12, the one who'd put the Careers to shame, now wholly vulnerable in front of the boy he loves.

The crowd goes wild.

And Jimin, Jimin is fucking furious.

“What are you doing?” Jimin hisses when Jungkook comes offstage, to the deafening cheers of the crowd.

“They said to come up with a story,” Jungkook shrugs, carelessly wiping off the tears on his cheek. “I came up with a story.”

He tilts his head toward the teleprompter where his sponsorship numbers are steadily ticking up, the highest of any contestant this evening. Jimin’s in close second by association.

“I think they liked my story,” Jungkook says, and smirks.

_Now_

_Their First Night, the lovebirds who found love against all odds._

Jimin doesn’t want to imagine how many people have paid to see this sick spectacle, how many will be witness to their humiliation.

He wonders if Namjoon will see it too— and then shakes the thought off because it’s too painful to bear.

Jungkook clicks the television off and the apartment falls back into silence. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Jimin lies, because it’s better than the truth.

They climb into the queen sized bed, careful not to touch each other. 

It’s stupid given what they must do tomorrow in front of a crowd of eager viewers, but here between the two of them, no one has to pretend they're anything other than what they are.

Jimin closes his eyes and tries to fall asleep.

The seconds tick by, like hours. Jungkook shifts onto his side, and sighs.

Maybe there’s something about living and dying together and living through it, that bonds you. 

Jimin can’t explain why he does the things he does next.

He shifts toward Jungkook, Jungkook shivers, under his touch, the tension slowly easing out of his body. 

Jimin closes his eyes, pressing his cheek to Jungkook’s back, and they stay there for a long time until morning.

_Then_

“I won’t let this change me,” Jungkook had said that first night, when they’d curled up by the window, looking out at the Capitol in all its glory.

Jimin, who had grown up in District 12 his whole life, knowing nothing but the muddy cornfields and the inky darkness of nights without electricity, thinks the view should be beautiful, but the glare of the lights force him to look away.

“We are going to die out there,” Jimin says.

He thinks about all the things he has taught himself not to want. Tries not to think about Namjoon’s dimples, and his fingers pressed to Jimin’s skin as the sky turned from dawn to dusk, the two of them sitting in the wheat fields outside Jimin’s house.

"Yeah," Jungkook says.

His eyes don't leave Jimin's face for the rest of the evening.

_ Then _

“It isn’t a media ploy for me,” Jungkook had whispered, into the dark of their apartment, like a secret.

Jimin hadn’t understood what Jungkook meant back then. 

Jungkook had easily aced all the skill tests. He was the strongest, the fastest by a mile, the Careers had watched him through narrowed eyes at him, as his name appeared over and over again on the leaderboard.

Jungkook didn’t even seem to notice.

When they get on the field that first day though, it’s Jungkook who shoots the arrow that saves Jimin. It’s Jungkook who finds him, his thigh scalded, and his lungs filled with smoke, Jungkook who pulls Jimin onto his back and takes off running toward the water. 

It’s Jungkook who finds a cave and paints Jimin gently, the brush caressing his skin like the kiss of a lover, hiding him carefully while he hunts for food.

Jimin had thought Jungkook meant to kill them all.

But he’s so, very wrong.

_Now_

Inside their bedroom, Jungkook is pacing, his fists clenched by his side. Jimin can see the ugly red half-moons pressed into the fleshy part of his palm, all self inflicted. 

“It’s my fault,” he says, and paces some more.

The repetitive movement is giving Jimin a headache so he stands, and takes Jungkook by the wrist, soothing his palms open.

Jungkook turns to him, eyes pleading. “If I hadn’t said that I loved you—“

“Then we’d be dead,” Jimin finishes, flatly. “The both of us. So stop it, stop this.”

The sponsors had eaten it up from the beginning. Star crossed lovebirds, Romeo and Juliet, it made for a wonderful story. It gave them both a plausible way to live.

It was the only thing that had saved them in the end, when it had just been the two of them left on top of that huge rock — Jungkook holding a handful of poisonous berries in his hand. 

Jimin had grabbed his wrist, and they’d fought, or at least that’s what the audience had wanted to see — two vicious lovers who would have murdered each other to live.

They fight of course, but Jimin is faster and he grabs Jungkook’s wrist, weakening his grip enough that he manages to take half of the berries too. 

Jimin has his elbow pressed to Jungkook’s throat, close to actually choking him. Instead of retaliating, Jungkook relaxes beneath him, the fight going right out of his body. He takes Jimin in, slowly, looking at him with a soft, sad smile. 

“Do it,” Jungkook says quietly, baring his throat. “You need to live. You need to go home, for your family.”

And Jimin shakes his head, releasing Jungkook from his grip.

“You idiot,” he says, “if you’re gone then what on earth would I have to live for?” 

Jimin surges forward and kisses Jungkook.

Their first kiss tastes like poisoned berries, bitter, like the end.

Jimin wakes up in the infirmary, his fingers wound tight around Jungkook’s, who’s asleep in the cot next to him. By the time they’re up and awake, the photos have been uploaded all over the news. 

_The two lovebirds, inseparable even in sleep._

Hoseok greets them with a cheery smile, but beneath that Jimin can see how tired he looks, his eyes red-rimmed and his smile fragile.

“The thing they don’t tell you,” Hoseok whispers, leaning in close, “is that it doesn’t end. It doesn’t ever end.”

He pulls away smiling again, gently straightening out Jimin’s clothes. “Welcome to the Capitol.”

Hoseok has been one of Them for so long now. A champion at the age of fifteen, he’s lived in the Capitol for years, wanting for nothing, a string of rich patrons, eager for his attentions.

At the celebratory ball that night, Jimin watches Hoseok flirting animatedly with the sponsors. There’s a lady, dressed in pink, her red lips hinting under the harsh lights. Her hand casually brushes Hoseok’s waist as she reaches for a glass of champagne.

Jimin’s watching Hoseok who’s still smiling, who’s still laughing. It’s only because he’s looking so hard that he sees the way Hoseok’s shoulders tense, for the briefest moment before he’s laughing again, and it’s over so quickly Jimin thinks he must have imagined his discomfort after all.

There’s a thrill of rebellion rushing through his spine, white hot and angry. Jimin wonders why it is this particular thing he balks at, given what he’s already lived through. But there’s something perverse in the way the Capitol takes so much pleasure in their continued humiliation, as if their lives are nothing but a trifling commodity, to be freely brokered and sold.

No, Jimin won’t stand for it.

He doesn’t want to give this thing away, to allow something so private and intimate and sacred to be auctioned off like a prize. 

At least this way he and Jungkook get to write their own narrative. 

Jimin looks at him, his dark hair framing his face. He looks young like this, and Jimin can almost imagine they’re back home again, flour dusting Jungkook’s cheeks. 

Jimin steps forward, Jungkook watches him until Jimin is standing between his parted legs. 

“Fuck me,” Jimin says, and Jungkook’s mouth falls open in surprise? Jimin doesn’t care to find out. He shoves him back and Jungkook topples, ungracefully when the back of his knees hit the bed.

“Jimin,” Jungkook begins, uncertainly.

Jimin has never known him to be anything but certain. He shifts forward, pressing his mouth against Jungkook’s. 

Jungkook freezes beneath him, but Jimin is determined, his hands coming to wrap around Jungkook’s neck, his mouth hot and insistent until Jungkook opens up for him, his hands sliding beneath Jimin’s sleep shirt.

“Wait,” Jungkook breathes, his knuckles are white as he grips the sheets. “This isn’t… what I… we shouldn’t.”

“I want to,” Jimin says.

And Jungkook stops to look at him hesitantly before he says, “all right.”

Jungkook is so gentle, Jimin’s never known him to be anything but. 

Jeon Jungkook who hadn’t been able to hurt a fly, who had cried when his father had butchered the family pig, who cried for every pig after, in secret after he realized his father hated that he was so soft.

Jungkook looks at Jimin like he’s something precious, something worthy of protecting and it makes something ugly rise under Jimin’s skin. He just wants to be somewhere far away, somewhere he doesn’t hate himself so much for giving in to this. 

He tears off his clothes, hurrying Jungkook through the preparation. It hurts, and hot tears spring into his eyes when Jungkook’s fingers breach him. 

“Hyung,” Jungkook says, pulling away but Jimin reaches back to grab his wrist. 

“Just do it,” he grits out, cheek pressed against the blankets. They were never meant to enjoy it, but Jimin would fucking kill himself first before letting anyone see this on camera.

He feels the shameful burn of tears behind his eyes when Jungkook presses into him, biting back a groan, like he doesn’t want Jimin to hear. Jimin bites his lip and slams back against him, breath heaving as he feels Jungkook bottom out.

“Fuck me,” he says and Jungkook begins to move, snapping his hips unsteadily, building up a rhythm. Jimin hisses, the burn too much and not enough all at once. 

It hurts, hurts like Jungkook’s tearing him up from the inside, but Jimin wants it to hurt, so then at least he can forget everything else.

Jimin doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he feels Jungkook still behind him, feels Jungkook’s huge warm arms wrap around him, and suddenly it feels too intimate again. 

Jimin wants to crawl out of his skin, but he can’t, not with Jungkook anchoring him down, his cock nestled deep inside him, his mouth pressing feathery soft kisses against Jimin’s neck.

Jungkook pulls out so he can flip them over, gently pushing away the arm that Jimin throws over his eyes. 

Jimin blinks and sees him, those dark endless orbs staring back, takin him in. They look at each other for a long moment, Jungkook cups Jimin’s cheek leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

Soft and chaste.

“We don’t have to do this,” Jungkook says, softly, his thumb gentle against the corner of Jimin’s mouth. “Any of it. Not today and not tomorrow.”

It’s such a pretty lie. Jimin’s sure he means it, because Jungkook is naive and optimistic and still believes beautiful things exist in the world. And Jimin will die to protect him because if one of them gets to walk home whole and unsullied from this it should be Jungkook.

Jungkook’s hands are dry and calloused, and he runs them up the sides of Jimin’s body, kissing down his neck, soft open mouthed kisses that make Jimin reach for him, wrapping his arms around Jungkook’s neck, to pull him close to feel the slide of Jungkook’s naked skin against his own.

“I know,” Jimin says, gritting his teeth and trying not to cry. “But I want to. I want to with you.”

It’s not a lie, not exactly.

“Jimin,” Jungkook breathes, dropping the honorifics and he leans in, kissing away the salty tears from Jimin’s mouth, his hands coming to cradle Jimin’s face. 

Jimin can’t stop touching him, caressing his cheek, his fingers curling in Jungkook’s hair and then the scar on his neck. Hs’e beautiful, Jimin realizes, running his hands over Jungkook’s stomach, feeling the ripple of muscle beneath his fingers as Jungkook sucks in a breath, staying perfectly still as Jimin touches him. Jungkook’s big hands are still resting on Jimin’s waist, holding him like he’s something precious and he kisses Jimin like It hurts to be apart,and Jimin kisses back because he doesn’t want Jungkook to hurt anymore. 

“I love you,” Jungkook breathes, quietly when he pushes back into Jimin again, so quietly, Jimin doesn’t think he meant to say that aloud at all.

Instead he closes his eyes, and arches up against Jungkook, feeling the fullness of Jungkook’s cock inside him, hot and hard and nudging up against the place inside him that makes him see stars.

Jungkook comes, a hot rush of liquid inside him, and Jimin pulls him close, close enough to kiss desperately, his fingers curling in Jungkook’s hair.

“I love you,” Jungkook whispers again and Jimin closes his eyes and tries not to cry, because he doesn’t know how to lie in the face of the truth.


End file.
